Two Sides, One Coin
by GoldFox
Summary: John muses on how different Sherlock can be from minute to minute. Contains semi-vore.


Just a random idea exploring the BBC versions of Sherlock Holmes and doctor John Watson.

This does not contain vore, per say. Only semi-vore, but some may enjoy it!

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It had been a bad morning.

Firstly, Sherlock was working on a new case and as a result, John had been up late helping him to study peas and pumpkins of all things! Sherlock had then called it a night at 3am, saying he had found what he was looking for, and John had gratefully gone off for bed without even asking what it had been, too tired to care.

John had been woken up by Sherlock being right over him, scaring the living daylights out of him. The man had then asked him, "Think of the color purple. What plant do you think of?"

John blinked, asking in confusion, "What?"

The detective had then startled him by grabbing his shoulders and shaking him, snapping, "John, focus, for god's sake! What plant do you think of?"

"Uh, uh, eggplant!" John spouted without thinking, now a little frightened. What was going on?!

Sherlock went still, staring at him as though he hadn't expected that answer, his grip loosening, but his hands still firmly on the man's shoulders. "What?"

"I think of an eggplant." John repeated cautiously, staring at Sherlock nervously, his mind calculating where he would have to hit Sherlock should the man become… violent.

After a moment, Sherlock asked, "What about a violet?"

His tone was like a professor drilling a student and John took immediate offence to this degrading tone, snapping, "The flower? Well, it's for the color violet, isn't it?"

Sherlock let John go, looking more than a little stunned. "Dear lord, your brain is so simple." he said finally.

Blushing angrily, John sat up, clutching the bedsheets to cover his naked middle, feeling self-conscious, "Well, I…" But Sherlock then rushed out of the room. "HEY!" he shouted, shocked at the man's speed. He had then realized that Sherlock had run out of their flat, leaving all the doors open behind him. Grumbling, John had to get up to close and lock everything and when he flopped back into bed, he knew it was pointless, as the clock said 6 am. He would never fall back asleep now. He moaned, but got up for a shower instead.

John hadn't seen Sherlock the rest of the day, but that didn't improve his mood. All it did was to give him time to groan and resent the detective, and by noon, he downright detested the man. He was working to make himself a ham and cheese sandwich and tea for lunch when he heard the familiar footsteps of the man coming home. Scowling, John didn't turn to look as he focused on his sandwich.

He heard footsteps behind him, heard them pause and then frowned as he heard Sherlock say, "It's amazing that despite all your insecurities about your weight, you still insist on eating food like that." When John grit his teeth and refused to answer, the footsteps walked off.

Thankful of this, John paused as the kettle whistled and turning, made his tea. As he came to put his tea at the table, he yelped to find Sherlock SITTING at the table. "Where did you come from?!" he asked in shock, having not heard him.

Sherlock was dressed now in a soft pair of trousers, no shoes or socks, and a simple shirt, and he looked at John as if the man had asked him a very, very stupid question. "The bedroom, John." he answered gently, like one would speak to a mentally retarded child.

Scowling, John turned to put his sandwich in the microwave, and kept his face glued on the little numbers, not wanting to have to deal with Sherlock right now. When it dinged, he turned around to find Sherlock had vanished again, but he was relieved. At least he could eat in peace. Taking his plate to the table, John settled in his chair and started to eat.

But when he went to reach for his mug, he froze at seeing a tiny, 3-inch Sherlock in it already.

He stared and then got angry. "Goddamn it, Sherlock! NOW?! OF ALL TIMES?" John knew he should be used to this by now.

One of their cases ages ago had been about a man somehow managing to steal and hide huge objects, such as enormous chests of rare and expensive clothing items and objects from museums. No one had been able to figure out how the man had not only gotten such huge objects out of the buildings without anyone seeing, but then had been able to hide the evidence when the police searched for the items afterwards!

It was later discovered that the man would sneak into the back rooms of the museums, out of sight of the cameras, shrink the objects he wanted to steal and then swallow them, since pockets weren't safe from pick-pocketing and police checks. He would then change his clothes, calmly walk out, cough up and resize the items when he was safe and then sold them on the black market, having a 'no questions asked' policy and making a LOT of money from it.

After a month of work, Sherlock, with his amazing deductive powers, had somehow worked out not only HOW the man did his crimes, but also how he had gotten such an amazing formula. By some means, he had discovered that the man had happened upon this special formula as a result of innocently showing up after a showdown between two spies. Since the two spies were dead, he had taken the spoils of their fight and fled and then had begun his crime spree.

After the man had been caught and arrested, which had been an interesting affair, to be sure, Mycroft had appeared and spoken privately with John, explaining that the formula was a top-secret government project and that no one was allowed to know about it. Mycroft knew John would stay quiet out of principle and he expressed that he had no worries about his brother telling anyone anything, knowing, of course , that Sherlock had probably somehow obtained the recipe of the formulas from the criminal's things and then had committed them to memory.

Frankly, John had just been a bit stunned by the whole affair.

So not only did size-changing liquid EXIST, just like from a science-fiction story, but the British government were working on it and now Sherlock knew how to make it!

In the beginning, John life had changed a bit, but not too dramatically. Sherlock had quickly taken to shrinking himself and exploring their flat, finding amazing new perspectives from such a small size and implicating this new knowledge in his crime solving.

But then Sherlock had grown more and more curious about how things had not been damaged while in the criminal's stomach during transport. And… Well, to make an uncomfortable story short, John had been forced to serve as a guinea pig and they discovered that once shrunk, any objects [or detectives] were rendered impervious to acid corrosion due to the condensing of the molecular structure.

Despite its oddly pleasant sensations that John didn't enjoy admitting to, the doctor tried to avoid that whole aspect of it, saying that he found it to be terribly unnatural and dangerous.

Fortunately for John, Sherlock usually only used the formula for his Lilliputian explorations of their flat, and this John could humor and tolerate, sometimes even finding it fascinating to watch the tiny detective moving about.

Right now, however, after the morning he had had at the hands of the detective, he didn't want to deal with Sherlock at ALL today! And now the man was shrinking himself and going in HIS food and drink!?

Sherlock was sitting in his tea, the level coming up to his shoulders and he looked very cozy and warm indeed, but when John snapped at him, he winced, asking gently, "Please refrain from shouting, if you can, John. Please?" he added quietly.

John fumed, but closed his mouth, his lips making a straight line of disapproval. Sherlock was very sneaky indeed. John could get mad at the man when he was taller than he was, but when Sherlock made himself all tiny like this, John felt that he… COULDN'T get mad at him!

Very clever indeed.

Scowling, John left his tea alone and started to eat again, taking small bites and chewing them strongly, taking his anger out on his food. He had been hoping for a nice, quiet meal, and now he had been suddenly, and unwillingly, burdened with the safekeeping of Sherlock, something he was NOT in the mood for. He scowled again as he ate, trying to think of ways out of this.

There was the possible answer of forcing Sherlock to grow back to normal, but he could see Sherlock wasn't wearing one of the little vials, and John didn't know where the antidote was, or what made it different from the shrinking formula. What if he doused Sherlock with MORE shrinking formula by accident? No, that wasn't a solution.

And he also knew that just ignoring the detective was out of the question as well. He could not, in good conscience, ignore the tiny detective knowing how vulnerable he was. He was stuck with him.

"It was eggplant."

Sherlock's words caught John off-guard and he stared at the detective angrily for interrupting his train of thought, snapping, "What?"

Sherlock looked very small in his mug, looking up at him with those light green eyes of his as he answered matter-of-factly again, "Eggplant. It was eggplant."

John blinked. What on earth was he talking about? "What was?" he asked, too curious for his own good to know he was being baited.

"The answer." Sherlock answered, ducking into the tea until his mouth disappeared and John fumed, knowing Sherlock was drinking some of his tea without his permission.

Angrily, he turned from the detective, grumbling, "You know what? You don't want to tell me, I don-"

"Over the course of the latest case…" Sherlock spoke quickly, making John look at him with an irritated, 'not amused' expression. Sherlock then continued speaking in his usual lecture tone, though John noticed that Sherlock didn't sound… patronizing. He was just explaining himself now. Curious, John decided to at least give him a chance and listen.

"…I have found that the criminal was committing his crimes according to colors and objects associated with them. Red was the storeowner who specialized in apples, orange was a clothing designer that had orange as their signature color. I knew his next color was purple, but I didn't know what he would go for. I had exhausted all leads on clothes, books, movies and houses, but I couldn't think of something common for plants, and the one I had thought of didn't work, so I asked you, since I knew you would know the most common plant." He looked at John again at this point, and the doctor noticed a sort of… thankfulness in his expression. "It was eggplants. We caught him in the act of being about to murder the owner of a windowsill eggplant flowerbox."

As the reality of this sank in, John took another bite of his sandwich, chewing more slowly. "Oh…" Then that meant…

"You saved a man's life." Sherlock said his thoughts aloud and he turned to look at the tiny detective. "Thank you, John."

Sherlock was glad to see John blush slightly as he took another bit of his sandwich. That had seemed to certainly help the doctor's mood! He knew he was being very rude by forcing the doctor into taking care of him like this, but he felt it would work well as an apology for all the stress he had caused the man during the week of this investigation. It had been a particularly bad one, and he feel a twinge of… well, not REGRET, but he wasn't at total ease with himself for waking the doctor after so few hours of sleep. So what could help John feel better but to have a nice little massage inside? He had certainly seemed to enjoy it last time!

Settling in the tea again and staying quiet, Sherlock looked up as John spoke, asking in a hesitant, curious tone, "So… just curious… What plant were you thinking of?"

" _Lablab purpureus_." Sherlock answered immediately, looking in the tea, noting how he could see the escapee tea leaves at the bottom of the cup, the ones that had escaped the fibers of the tea bag.

"Umm…"

Looking up to see John looking confused, but no longer so angry, Sherlock then offered, "Hyacinth bean." As John continued to look clueless, Sherlock bit his tongue on his planned retort, explaining instead, "It looks like a green bean, but the pod is bright purple, and the seeds, when dry, are actually quite poisonous. They have to be boiled very thoroughly to render them safely edible. They are sometimes found in Asian-style dishes." He sighed. "I had been lurking about Asian restaurants for leads…"

John looked surprised. "I… didn't know they _came_ in purple." he said simply as he nibbled his sandwich again. He seemed to be trying to make the sandwich last as long as possible…

"Most people don't." the detective replied gently, shifting a toe and watching the tea leaves swirl up in the current this caused.

After a few moments of quiet, Sherlock looked up to look at John. The man was not looking at him, but was looking at the far wall. But he wasn't avoiding Sherlock's gaze. He was just… daydreaming. Smiling, Sherlock then offered softly, "John?" When the doctor looked at him, he said in his matter-of-fact way, but not being sharp, "You make yourself a tea, and then refuse to drink it? How wasteful."

The doctor stared at him, but then surprise spread over his face. Putting his food down, he leaned close, saying, "Well, I can't very well drink it with you in there!"

"Why not?" Sherlock asked, trying his best to look innocent. He knew John wasn't keen on eating him, but was it so difficult for him to drink from the same mug Sherlock was in? Mostly, Sherlock wanted to watch, curious, and he knew it would help to slowly get John used to interacting with Sherlock if he did this.

John looked stunned, stuttering and then saying, "Wha-are you mad? Because you're IN there!"

"Are you scared you'll 'drink' me as well?" Sherlock asked, looking mildly amused.

The doctor all but scoffed, saying, "Of course not, you're too bi-"

"Well then?" Sherlock interrupted, smiling.

John now looked a little flustered, protesting, "But I-"

But Sherlock didn't allow him time to speak, adding in a conversational tone as if John hadn't spoken, "Oh, and when you go to your computer to write, I'd like to stay in your mug. I know you like to drink as you write." He looked up at John, as if checking that was all right, but at the same time, not accepting arguments.

"I-I-" John looked so flustered and confused now, unable to form a proper reply. But then his gaze hardened. "Okay, you know what? **Fine**."

Sherlock was then pleased as John reached out and grabbed the mug, his face set in an expression of determination. Sherlock was then treated to a very interesting sight as John brought the mug to his lips and sucked in a quick sip, his eyes purposefully diverted. Sherlock could hear the rush of liquid as John drank and even felt the current of it tugging at him gently. John's face was so large from this point of view and thanks to Sherlock being so close, he was able to sit up a bit straighter and look right into the nearer dark blue eye. It was a deep, rich color and he smiled as he looked over the rest of the eye which was larger than his own chest. It was amazing!

But then John suddenly made a face and withdrew the mug, smacking his lips as he made an unhappy ' _nnnm_ ' noise. "Too hot to drink." he explained as he withdrew the mug, but didn't lower it. He then looked at Sherlock, asking, "How can you stand it in there?" sounding grudgingly impressed.

Sherlock knew as well as John that there was molecular compression at work here, but he only smiled, answering, "Because I'm special?"

"You certainly are." John answered without missing a beat, putting his mug down, but Sherlock smiled, knowing John was starting to warm up a bit now.

John sighed as he picked up his sandwich again, but as he was about to bite, he saw Sherlock staring at him. After trying to ignore Sherlock for a moment, John finally snapped, "What?"

"Can I have a small piece?" Sherlock asked quietly, smiling.

"Oh for the…"John nearly wanted to scream but controlled himself and then just sighed. "Yeah. Fine. Sure." He worked off a small, pinky-nail-sized bit of sandwich that had meat and cheese in it and gently handed it to Sherlock, unable to bring himself to be rough with the little detective.

Sherlock accepted the bit of sandwich happily, saying, "Thank you, John." He settled in the tea happily as he started to eat, looking very content.

John was surprised at how polite and… human Sherlock was being and was silent for a moment before finally saying, "You're welcome."

After a moment, John went back to work on his sandwich, now able to watch Sherlock with less bitterness than before. The little man, having somehow finished the bit of sandwich he gave him, was now relaxing in the tea, looking like he was in a hot bath. Which he WAS, in a manner of speaking, and John couldn't help but smile. He looked so relaxed, his eyes closed as he just let himself soak in the warmth and John had to admit that Sherlock was rather cute when he did that. How could this same tiny person be an arrogant, antisocial, rude, selfish git when he was normal sized? It seemed almost impossible that they were the same person!

After a moment, John felt the urge to write and he stood up. As Sherlock looked up at him, John said, "I'm going to write now. Just… sit still." He then gently picked up the mug with both hands and then walking to the living room, set the mug down on the desktop, and taking out his computer, got it up and running. He glanced over to see Sherlock now had his arms out along the rim of the mug, very much like a Jacuzzi and John frowned a little, saying, "Now don't go getting too comfortable. That is MINE after all, and I do intend to finish it!"

The little detective looked up at him and only smiled, snuggling down deeper into the tea.

Sighing, John turned to his machine and soon got into the groove of his writing. He didn't write anything too exciting: mostly about what he did during the day, his thoughts, and various things he thought of, but it was soothing and he found it was helping relive him of his stress, which was wonderful. As he was writing, he reached without thinking for his mug and lifting it, took a sip. It wasn't until he put it back down did he see Sherlock in it, grinning. John coughed in surprise, but then sighed. "Don't get your hopes up." he grumbled as he got back to his writing. "I'm fine with looking after you, but I'm not keen on an… an additional snack tonight." Ignoring Sherlock's almost pleading expression, John went back to his writing.

As he wrote, now and then he took a drink from his tea, conscious of Sherlock being in there and being sure not to drink him down as well. As his tea was starting to empty, Sherlock lay lower and lower to adjust to this, but on John's latest sip, Sherlock did something rather silly. When the man tipped the mug carefully to get the last drops but not Sherlock, John made a surprised noise as a tiny little foot was pushed between his lips.

He withdrew the mug to glare at Sherlock, who was smiling and trying to look innocent.

"I said no." John said to the detective, setting his mug down.

"But now I'll freeze!" Sherlock protested, now looking very pitiful and miserable indeed, tugging at John's conscience.

But he had known the detective would pull this and said firmly, "Well, not my fault. You shrank yourself."

After a moment, there was a soft, "John? Please?"

Looking down, John sighed. Sherlock was now in an empty mug, was wet and cold and was being polite and civil. Would it really be so bad to humor him? "Sherlock, it'll be shirt or nothing!" John said after a moment, pausing in his writing and leaning back in his chair to look at him.

Sherlock seemed to consider this, but then smiled. "What about option three?"

John's brow furrowed. "Three?" he asked, confused.

The little detective looked very sly now as he said, "Well, I endured several hours of option three for you when you had your… incident."

John froze, knowing exactly what Sherlock was talking about. And what he wanted.

Once, John had accidentally been a victim of shrinking, but with a batch of antidote brewing and not yet ready, he had been in the dangerous position of being too small to care for himself and thus risking becoming too cold. Sherlock had obviously stepped in to help him, but at John's request, had agreed not to tuck the man inside. Instead, they had come to the agreement of Sherlock just holding the tiny doctor in his mouth. He was kept warm and safe as he napped while Sherlock read, passing the time until the antidote was ready.

For the detective's patience and understanding that day, John DID owe him…

After a moment, John sighed. "Alright, Sherlock, alright." He smiled a little hesitantly, but genuinely. "I can't argue with that, though I'd like to." he added, making Sherlock chuckle. He then shook a finger at the tiny detective, saying, "But that's as far as you'll go! Got it?"

Sherlock smiled, knowing that while this wasn't perfect, he could tell this was as far as he'd get with the doctor that night. The man could be surprisingly stubborn when he wanted to! He nodded, saying, "I understand." He then stood up, lifting up his arms in a rather childish manner, smiling.

John hesitated, but after a moment, he smiled and reached, gently scooped the man out of the mug, saying, "I really don't understand you, Sherlock."

Sitting easily in the doctor's palm, Sherlock leaned back, saying, "I'll take that as a compliment."

The palm was warm and soft under him and he lay there calmly as John lifted him to eye-level. The doctor then opened his mouth to speak, thought better of it and then shifted his hand to be in front of his mouth, saying a bit nervously, "Go on before I change my mind."

Chuckling softly to himself at how uneasy John still was with this game, Sherlock did as told and getting to his hands and knees, crawled forwards, resting his hands on the lower teeth as he just looked around for a moment. He had never really had time to LOOK yet, and he was glad to have the opportunity this time! However, as John's hand shifted a little bit, Sherlock knew he would have to look from inside. To please the doctor, he hurried into the man's mouth and grinning mischievously, let himself flop heavily on the tongue.

He laughed softly as John seemed surprised at this, but he then started to gently rub at the tongue before the man could worry. The flesh was squishy and warm and rubbery under his hands and he got to his knees and started to rub enthusiastically, enjoying how odd it felt to his hands. He was aware that it got a little darker as John closed his mouth a bit, but it didn't bother Sherlock and the man kept up his rubbing and exploring, unaware of how John was now smiling hugely.

After a few minutes of this, Sherlock settled himself to be lying on his back, head pointed backwards. He crossed one leg over the other and interlacing his fingers, let them settle on his middle as he relaxed, now just looking around and exploring with his eyes, smiling to himself. It was delightfully warm in here and from the now-steady sound of clicking, he knew John was typing again, which was good, because it meant he was nice and relaxed now.

Sighing, Sherlock let his eyes close. He wanted to keep exploring, but he had been getting pretty chilly, so he would warm up a bit first. By then, John would be done writing as well, so he could explore freely without having the guilt of knowing he was bothering John. Smiling, Sherlock snuggled down into the soft, squishiness of the tongue, enjoying the wonderful warmth around him.

John had to admit it was a little bit distracting to have Sherlock in his mouth like that. The little man had a distinct weight to him that was easily noticeable but even more, John noticed a slight hint of the detective's flavor, something he had briefly tasted before, but had never gotten a good opportunity to really identify. He smiled a bit as he gently closed his mouth. Sherlock wasn't moving, which meant he wasn't exploring, right? And his jaw was beginning to ache from being slightly open like that with something inside.

He felt Sherlock start to move a bit in his mouth, but as he got ready to open his mouth again, John was then thoroughly stunned as Sherlock only rolled to his side and curling up into a ball, snuggled in place. There was then a distinct feeling of the little chest getting bigger, and then shrinking again before Sherlock went very still again. John blushed, leaning back for a moment.

The thing he enjoyed most about this odd 'game' of Sherlock's was how utterly the detective would trust him. It was a feeling that John enjoyed and he relished it every time he was able to get it. He was stunned that Sherlock could so easily throw caution to the wind like this, but he wasn't complaining! The little body was warm and soft and actually a bit tasty in his mouth, so he didn't mind humoring Sherlock for a few hours like this.

He finished his blog and then opened his personal journal instead, smiling as he started to type about the detective's antics, smiling as he felt Sherlock wriggle in place again before snuggling down and going trustingly still.

 **FIN**

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 _Hope you enjoyed. I have written a sequel with proper vore in it, but I'll wait to see how this one gets received!_


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